Begin Again
by margauxmoran
Summary: The treacle tart, he thought. Only Cornelia wasn't a treacle tart, he belatedly realized. She was butter chiffon cake. He loved butter chiffon cake. He wasn't madly in love with it. A sweet Harry/Ginny love story
1. Chapter 1 Moving On

**Begin Again**

**Chapter 1 Moving On  
**

Ginny got up especially early that morning because he had a six o'clock meeting at the office. This meant she had to make breakfast an hour earlier than usual. It was fine as she planned on going to the stadium to practice more of the new spinning technique Gwenog devised for the Harpies' next game. She tiptoed on her way out of the bedroom, taking care not to disturb him in his sleep to give him a few more minutes of rest.

She went directly to the kitchen and decided on eggs and sausages on toast. It was easy and fast to make, no sautéing, simmering or fifteen other steps and ingredients required to accomplish. In short, a meal she knew she could not muck up while still half asleep. _She was gifted in flying, not cooking, _she reasoned as she hummed her favourite up-tempo tune to jog her nerves.

Ginny then went back to the bedroom to wake him before going to the bathroom to take a shower, pretending everything was normal like all the other days when in fact, things had shifted. Just last night, he lent her his coat before Apparating home and there, on his right hand pocket, she felt the unmistakable shape of a jewelry box. The exact kind that spelled forever. She didn't know what to do so she pretended to know nothing as it was evident he forgot it was there.

_Forever. _That was mind-boggling. She hadn't thought about it in a very long time and thinking about it now made her feel overwhelmed and a little bit anxious. She was only twenty-two and she still had at least a few more years in the league. She loved him but if she said yes now, she was agreeing to be both wife and mother. She didn't even know the first thing about stain removal and wives and mothers knew that. She wasn't ready.

"Oh, hell," she muttered to herself as she stepped out of the shower. Maybe she should talk to Hermione about this business. If there was anything to know, she could surely ask her newly-engaged soon-to-be sister-in-law. It may just turn out she was just suffering from nerves.

* * *

Harry Potter woke up on Monday morning queasy. It was their third year anniversary and he was popping the question.

He's had everything planned a week early – a dinner reservation at the glitzy restaurant in Hogsmeade, a pre-ordered bouquet of red roses, and lastly, an exquisite 14k solitaire nestled in a black velvet box on his sock drawer.

And yet his gut was telling him there was something wrong. He was sure he had the date correctly so it wasn't that. He had even gone as far as asking her father for her hand so it wasn't that either. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was and he's been racking his brain most of the night thinking what he might have missed but to no avail. If only his scar would open up and make him see it. Unfortunately, the lack of sleep wasn't helping him think coherently now, either.

He stayed in bed a few more minutes, knowing she was preparing breakfast in the kitchen and wouldn't want to be interrupted. She had always been a morning person, something he could not relate to as he preferred sleeping in until the last alarm had gone off. He could hear her now singing while cooking and he could not fathom how anyone could get that enthusiastic at that ungodly hour.

Pulling the covers and burying his head with a pillow, he again went over his situation: asking her to marry him. He came upon the idea a few weeks ago, right after his 22nd birthday. Suddenly, he saw that what he had was not enough. He craved for a family of his own and a home to come home to at the end of the day. So the following week, he went to a famous jeweller and bought a diamond ring in a classic Edwardian design that he knew would fit her personality perfectly.

_He loved her, it was the right time and he was taking the right step_, he thought, forgetting the queasy feeling as he descended the stairs and followed the smell of pancakes to the kitchen. He gave her the customary kiss on the cheek and said "Happy Anniversary, Cornelia," and then went to pour himself a cup of coffee.

He was moving on with his life.

* * *

A/N: You're probably exclaiming "Not Ginny?" right about now and cursing me in your language of choice but listen to me when I tell you that this is a Harry/Ginny fic so all is not lost. How this came to be will be explained on a later chapter so hold that question. I'd love to hear your comments, questions and suggestions so write me a review. Ciao!


	2. Chapter 2 Not Again!

**Chapter 2 Not Again!**

"Great practice, guys," Gwenog Jones said as she landed on the ground behind her team. "You need to make a smoother finish on your Spinning technique, Grace. And a faster transition on that trick pass, you two," she said, pointing at Reel and Winters.

Gillian Grace groaned. "I agree, but this Firebolt 2.5 just isn't capable of a tenth of a second turnaround," she complained, carrying the underperforming broomstick in her shoulder.

"Ginny had no problem with it," Gwen said.

"Ha! That's because she's not using her Firebolt today, is she?," Gail Winters interjected.

Everyone turned to look at Ginny's broom so she passed it to her captain to inspect.

"Beautiful," she commented as she scrutinized it from end to end. "Looks like our broom except for the 5° angle difference in the hind twig. Is it new? I didn't see this in the last Which Broomstick."

"That's because it wasn't there," Ginny explained. "It's a prototype of the new line called Thunderbolt and Ryan's asked me to test it. It's supposed to surpass the present capabilities of the last Firebolt."

"Gee, I never knew dating the heir of the Bolt Enterprises had perks like that, Gin. Tell me, does Ryan have a brother?," Gabby Trinity teased.

Ginny chuckled, "No, one sister. Sorry."

"You had to try, didn't you," Genevieve Lavoisier snorted as they walked towards the locker room. "So I guess you're bringing him to the fundraiser this Friday?," she asked Ginny.

"I'm not sure. I think he's got a scheduled meeting that night," she answered dismissively. Truth was, she hasn't asked him yet.

"Oh, come on! It's been a year and we haven't even met the guy. Make him cancel whatever meeting he's got," Gwen pushed. "I'm sure he'd love to hear thanks from the team he's sponsoring."

"Alright, alright. He'll be there," Ginny finally said. It wasn't worth it fighting with Gwenog on this. She didn't want to turn up a woodlice because of some event she wanted Ryan Bolt to attend.

Gwen was satisfied. "Great! I'm sure he'll enjoy the crowd. The organizers this year have done a fantastic job and they'veinvited lots of famous people who RSVP'd already."

"Really? Who?," Georgia asked.

"Let's see. The editor of the Prophet's confirmed and that Malkin's model Something Candy..."

"Kristy Candy," Gail said.

"Yeah, that one. And then the author John Wick's also coming. Lots of great people. And Harry Potter," she added as an afterthought.

"Harry?," Ginny said, stopping in her tracks.

"As in The One Who Lived," Gwen said.

"As in Potter?," Ginny asked.

"Is this a game?," Gail challenged. "Okay, as in the highest ranking Junior Auror in the Ministry?," she gamely replied.

"Oh, me, me," Gen said. "As in the guy dating the former Irish Prime Minister's daughter..."

"Cornelia Digby," Ginny supplied. Everybody knew Cornelia Digby. She was beautiful, sexy, smart and the Irish equivalent of Mother Theresa, always doing charity work or campaigning for various causes. Ginny would've hated her if she hadn't been completely wonderful when she met her three years ago during the Harpies' game in Ireland. She couldn't blame Harry for falling for her.

"Earth to Ginny?," Gen snapped in her face. "You okay?"

"Sorry. Just thinking about Ryan's schedule," she smiled, getting a move on in the shower and putting an end to her thoughts.

Except it wasn't working.

Through the years, Ginny and Harry had become civil, regressing back to their previous relationship of barely talking to each other. Even their friends and her family backed off eventually. But every once in a while, she'd stumble upon something and find herself thinking how Harry used to have one of those, whatever it was or how he'd like a particular joke she heard. It was disconcerting, especially if you think it had been almost six years since the relationship had ended.

"He let me go," she would always tell herself, summoning the anger that accompanied it. These past few months, however, the anger had fizzled. He had his reasons, she knew that. He couldn't risk having her hurt when she didn't mind fighting herself.

That was why she moved on and dated Dean again while in hiding at Muriel's three months prior to the Battle at Hogwarts. Their relationship lasted a year and a half. Everything was going so smoothly – Dean had just started administrative work at the Ministry and she had just been made a substitute Chaser for the Harpies. Then he proposed to her and she declined. It was too soon. She wasn't ready to commit. He took these to mean that she didn't see a future for them so he broke up with her.

She met Ronson Cooper three months later at Gabby's housewarming party. He was a champion dueller who wrote articles on defense in an internationally syndicated magazine. He was a very serious guy, that Ronson. When she asked him once why he was brooding, he said he was pondering how to improve his Slashing technique. They dated for over a year and then he, too, proposed in the middle of his birthday dinner. She said she would answer him when they were alone, not wanting to say no in front of his family and friends. When they left, she told him she didn't know they were serious and that she wasn't ready to marry. He moved back to Australia shortly after that. She thanked her lucky stars he didn't practice his Slashing technique on her. He left quietly, his signature brooding expression in tow.

She didn't date for a while after that and when she finally did, she never went out with the same guy thrice. She couldn't bear rejecting another proposal.

It was on Katie Bell's birthday party that she met Ryan Bolt, the creative director of Bolt Enterprises. They got to talking about broom research and he offered to take her on a tour of their laboratory. He was smart and driven and appeared like the guy who would be too busy for the next ten years to ever think about settling down, so she agreed to a date. They've been seeing each other for almost two years now and it seemed she was wrong. He was another man overeager to seal her fate forever.

A/N: What do you think? Good or bad chapter? Come on, review and tell me:)


	3. Chapter 3 Food For Thought

**Chapter 3 Food For Thought**

A/N: I haven't mentioned it before but this story was inspired by a song of the same title (Begin Again) written and performed by Colbie Caillat. Very cool song. I highly recommend you listen to it.

Thanks to everyone who added "Begin Again" to their Favorite Stories List and Alerts List and all those who reviewed. Shout out to Bonnie and Penneloopy who reviewed last time (I couldn't reply directly because you reviewed when not logged in). You guys are awesome!

* * *

"What's so important that you wanted to meet me outside the office in the middle of the day?," Ron asked, sitting down on a chair and looking warily around the Muggle fast food joint Harry picked as their meeting place. Satisfied that nobody seemed suspicious, he cast an Anti-Eavesdropping Spell just in case, and then proceeded on eating the pile of fries Harry ordered.

"It's our third anniversary and I'm asking Cornelia to marry me tonight," Harry nervously said in one breath.

"Cool," Ron nonchalantly replied, getting ready to bite down on his burger when he saw his best friend glaring at him. "What? Do you want my blessing or something?"

"No, of course not," Harry sighed. "I'm just not sure."

"Not sure of what?," Ron asked.

Harry thought for a second before replying "If it's the right time."

"Harry, you're the one proposing. Do it when it feels right," Ron said, dispensing the advice like a pro.

That made sense, Harry thought as he chewed on a fry. "Can I ask you a question?"

"As long as it's not 'Will you marry me?'," Ron joked, laughing at his own statement.

"I was thinking, since you are engaged to be married, how did you know Hermione was the One?"

"Hmmm... good question," Ron said, dunking the fry in ketchup.

He knew he shouldn't have talked to Ron during lunch hour. "Well?," Harry prompted impatiently.

"Oh, right," Ron said, his eyebrows knitting as if contemplating a very difficult mathematical Potions problem. "You know how I love caramel pecan pie?"

"Yeah," he answered, not knowing where it was going.

"See, dessert is my favourite part of the meal and I like every kind there is. But if I had to choose just one dessert in my lifetime, I'd pick caramel pecan pie," he explained, a dreamy expression on his face . "Some desserts are tastier, fruitier, even fluffier, but nothing compares. It's sweet and nutty with just the right amount of crust to hold the filling. It's perfect to me."

Harry scratched his head in confusion. "And this relates to my question how?"

"Well, Hermione is my caramel pecan pie," he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. " Sure, there are lots of pretty witches out there, smart, sexy, funny and then I start thinking Hermione's loads smarter or she's got a better laugh or she's a more compassionate person than any girl in the world, and I knew. She's the only person I'd want to wake up with for the rest of my life," Ron finished, chomping down on his burger once again.

Who knew Ron thought about things that deeply? "Wow," was all Harry could say.

"Yeah, I know. Great burger," Ron commented.

Later that day, as he waited for Cornelia to arrive at the restaurant, he thought about what Ron had said Was Cornelia his caramel pecan pie?

The Minister introduced them three years ago at a council meeting and she was excited in meeting him. She said she read a lot about the defeat of Voldemort so she asked him out for drinks to hear more about it. He was shocked at first at being asked out by a girl but since it was only a friendly outing, he accepted. One date turned to two and before he knew it, three years had passed and she had moved to England and rented an apartment. He knew she wanted him to move in with her but he wasn't a fan of the idea, staying over only a couple of times a week and still keeping his condo. It wasn't because she was difficult to live with, only she was a very tidy person and he thought he would alienate her if he accidentally forgot to use a coaster or left his shirt on the floor. She would hate that for sure.

He pondered the caramel pecan pie theory once again. It didn't work. Treacle tart, that's his favourite. Was Cornelia his treacle tart?

True, she was beautiful, stunning actually, intelligent, kind and she took care of him. She was utterly devoted and would make a great mother. She was simple and she was happy just being with him, no unrealistic demands whatsoever. And she loved him. But was that enough to be the One? He couldn't help but think about a certain redhead's intent look in his mind's eye, challenging him to take that crucial step. She used to be his ticket to a happy ever after before he gave up his future. Now that he had reclaimed it, he couldn't clearly see what it held for him.

His thoughts were interrupted as Cornelia arrived, elegantly dressed in a black knee-length designer dress, her hair coiffed in a delicate chignon. She went to meet him at their table and gave him a quick peck on the lips before Harry assisted her on her chair.

"Here, these are for you," Harry said as he handed her the bouquet of red roses. "Happy Anniversary, Cornelia."

"Thanks, sweetheart. Happy Anniversary," she replied as she admired and smelled the flowers. "This is for you," she said, handing him a small parcel wrapped in gold paper.

Harry unwrapped the gift and found a gold-plated, unlimitedly-inked quill. He didn't know what else to say but "It's great. I like it. Thanks, Cornelia."

She smiled. "I knew you would. In Ireland, it's traditional to give a quill on the third year," she informed him.

"Right. Listen, there's something I need to ask you," Harry said, his hand diving in his pocket to retrieve the velvet box, opting to do it while he still had the nerve. Unfortunately, their waiter picked that exact time to take their orders.

"Anything else, Mr. Potter?," the enthusiastic waiter named Jason asked after listing down their preferences. "How about dessert?"

Harry didn't even look at the menu, having eaten there many times before. "I'll have the special treacle tart, please. Cornelia?"

She shook her head, saying "No, thanks. I'm on a diet."

When the waiter was out of earshot, she excitedly asked "You were saying?"

He got distracted by thoughts of treacle tart and lost his place in the conversation. "I'm sorry, what?," Harry said, forgetting what they were talking about.

"You were about to ask me something."

"Oh, right," he said, figuring out what he was supposed to do. The treacle tart, he thought. Only she wasn't a treacle tart, he belatedly realized. She was butter chiffon cake. He loved butter chiffon cake. He wasn't madly in love with it.

"I was just ... going to ask if you would like to go with me to the Harpies' fundraiser this Friday."

* * *

A/N: I've been asked how often I update and the answer is once a week. It may be longer when I'm busy but once a week is my target. Add me on your Alerts List (it's the option in the purple box on the lower left corner) if you want to be sent an email whenever I upload new chapters. Regarding how long the story would be, it depends, although the rate it's going, I'm thinking 10-14 chapters. Maybe.

I welcome your reviews, good or bad. Tell me if had made mistakes. I'd appreciate it. Also, I wouldn't be mad at you if you read and review my previously completed fic entitled "Don't Forget." I have no shame, I know


	4. Chapter 4 A Monumental Invitation

**Chapter 4 A Monumental Invitation**

A/N: Greer means watchful guardian.

* * *

It was a few hours shy of noon when Harry decided to get up from his bed that Tuesday morning. Despite yesterday being their Anniversary, Harry begged off from staying at Cornelia's place, citing an active case in the North needing his supervision early the next day. She said it was unfortunate but she understood.

It probably wasn't wise to lie to one's girlfriend but he had been doing it for the past three years, just this particular day, celebrated by wizards and witches as Hogwarts Heroes Memorial Day, more popularly known as Harry Potter's Day.

Ever since Prime Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt declared it six years ago to commemorate the heroes of the Final Battle, Harry had made it a tradition not to go to work. He almost did the first time it was celebrated but he had been accosted by reporters and well-wishers by greetings of "Happy Harry Potter's Day, Mr. Potter" on his way to the Ministry. Needless to say, he never attempted to do it again since.

Cornelia didn't know any of these, of course, and he didn't want her to be burdened by it. She grew up in Ireland and no matter how many books she read about the rise and fall of Voldemort, she would never really understand what it was like to live then, to lose the people you loved in a war. Nope, best she didn't know.

He groaned as he made his way towards the bathroom, remembering the bottle of Firewhiskey he consumed the night before. He had never been tolerant of alcohol but last night, it seemed a very good idea to drink. There were things he didn't want to think about.

The dinner had been an eye-opener for him. He realized that he had never really been in love with his girlfriend. He was not going to go down on one knee to propose. In fact, he had to be honest and break up with her and he didn't know how to without hurting her. He didn't want to think about that.

Then there's the Heroes Memorial Day. Although he had already accepted everything that happened that fateful day, it was still painful to remember. Memories of George, Lupin, Tonks and countless others dying, giving himself up to Voldemort, the castle in ruins, people suffering grief – he wanted to forget it, just for a while. He wanted to forget seeing Ginny just outside the doors of the Great Hall, weeping helplessly, her head resting on Dean's shoulder.

So he got carried away with the Firewhiskey and was now faced with a raging hangover. He stumbled a couple more times as he took a shower, leaving the shaving for later when he could see only one chin in the mirror instead of three. He ate a hurried lunch, took half a glass of Sober-Up potion, sent a short note via his owl Greer, before heading out to his annual route in his trusty Invisibility Cloak.

He spent most of his afternoon visiting various cemeteries where the Heroes were buried, including that of his parents and godfather. It was almost sunset when he reached his last destination. He took off his hood and stood beside the high gates and waited.

"Hey, Harry," Hagrid greeted as he came forward and unlatched the locks. "Pretty late this year, aren't ya?"

"I had a late night," Harry explained, glad Hagrid got his note earlier.

"I expect there's still some nasty business up in the North," Hagrid noted as he let Harry inside and locked up again. "So how's that lady friend of yours, Cornelia?"

"She's doing fine," he answered simply.

"Been more'n a couple years now, ain't in? I hope you won't leave me outta the wedding when the time comes, Harry," Hagrid teased good-naturedly.

Harry didn't mind the comment. "I would deliver the invitation myself if that'd make you happy."

Hagrid chuckled. "Well, this is me," he said as they reached his hut. "Do you want me to accompany you there?"

"I'll be fine, Hagrid, thanks," Harry said.

"You're welcome to join the feast later at the castle, ya know. Students will be thrilled."

"That's okay. I won't be long," he answered, not wanting any more people gawking at him.

"Well, you take care Harry," Hagrid said. "Oh, and would you mind telling Ginny that I'm very much enjoying the season tickets she sent me."

"Sorry, Hagrid. I don't see Ginny quite often these days," Harry replied, baffled at the strange request.

"But she's at the monument now, ain't she? Let her in a quarter of an hour ago."

"Ginny's here?"

"Yeah. Every year for the past six years she comes, usually about this time. Never forgets, that one," Hagrid said approvingly.

"I didn't know."

"That's cause you always come a bit early," Hagrid explained. "You best get on, Harry. It's getting dark," he said and with a last good bye walked on towards his cabin.

Harry didn't know what to make of this piece of news. He never wanted to be alone with Ginny again or spend a lot of time with her in the room. That was why he only came to the Burrow when he knew there would be a lot of Weasleys to justify not talking to her or staying only a minimum amount of time so as not to offend Mrs. Weasley. A few lines of pleasantries defined their new relationship. It worked for the two of them, he reflected as he walked towards the lake where the shrine stood beside the white tomb.

And there she was, sitting on the grass, her long, wavy red hair covering her face.

He flipped his hood back on as he approached, careful not to make any noise. He stopped a few feet from her, having decided that he'd rather not let her know he was there to avoid any awkwardness.

She was crying, he noticed, though she tried to mask the sound of her sobs.

"Hello, Harry," Ginny suddenly said motionlessly. "I know you're there under that Invisibility Cloak."

Harry took of the cloak off and went towards her. "How did you know I was here?"

"Hagrid mentioned it," Ginny said as she looked at him for the first time. "And I felt magic," she added nonchalantly.

"Right," Harry said, not knowing what else to say as he stood at her back. "You, um, you okay?"

"I'm fine, Harry. Don't worry. I just get a bit melodramatic when I come here," Ginny said as she looked back at him with a wry smile.

"I guess that's normal," he responded.

"I'm sure it's not manly to cry, huh?," she said in between sobs.

"Yeah. It's a lot more proper for us blokes to get drunk on a bottle of Firewhiskey."

Ginny snorted. "You? Drunk on Firewhiskey?"

Harry sat on the grass. "Don't get shocked, Ginny. Not everyone can turn on the waterworks like you," he teased. They both smiled at this and returned once again to companionable silence. Harry reverted to looking at the names of those who died in the Final Battle carved in the stone.

After a while, she spoke. "I still miss Fred, you know," she said in a solemn voice. "The shop's thriving and all but George's not the same. He still jokes around but sometimes I think he's waiting for Fred to complete his sentences or something," Ginny said. "It's good that Angelina and the kids keep him busy."

"I miss Tonks and Remus," Harry confessed. "And I'm sure Teddy misses them, too."

"How is little Teddy?"

"He's great. Andromeda's doing a wonderful job of raising him. I see him most weekends when I'm not working," he answered. "I just wish he was able to know more about his parents."

"I know what you mean."

He stood up. "We should go. It's getting late," he said and held his hand to help Ginny up.

They walked out of Hogwarts together, talking about what they were busy with at the present.

Just as they reached a safe Apparition point, Ginny said "You should have dinner with us."

Harry knew she referred to the simple annual celebration at the Burrow that he never went to. "I wouldn't want to intrude," he said.

"You won't be. Mum would love to see you," she persuaded.

"I don't know," Harry said, still a little hesitant.

"I know for a fact that there's loads of treacle tart, if that helps," Ginny said mischievously, knowing it was one of his weaknesses.

A moment later, a pop was heard, and the two of them had travelled to the Burrow.

* * *

A/N: There, Bonnie. Satisfied? Hahaha! I was really going to put it in somewhere, I just didn't know I'd add it this soon.

Since I mentioned the Anniversary of the Final Battle/Hogwarts Heroes Memorial Day, you would be correct to assume that the story was set on May 1(chapters 1-3) and May 2(chapter 4).

Thanks for the reviews, guys. It's really inspiring when I read your wonderful comments. No restrictions on the reviews, though, so feel free to say what you really think. Sign the review if you want me to answer your questions. Ciao=P


	5. Chapter 5 A Fitting Confession

**Chapter 5 A Fitting Confession**

A/N: Thanks for the support, readers and reviewers. You guys rock!

"Come on, Ginny. Spill," Hermione coaxed as sounds of yards of tulle, silk and lace being maneuvered into various body parts permeated the room.

"There's nothing to spill," Ginny replied a little more forcefully than intended. The topic had been revisited every fifteen minutes and duly hedged. She should have known Hermione wouldn't stop until she heard every little detail that escaped the 'we just bumped into each other' response she said last night. _If only this wasn't important, _Ginny lamented, thinking of how unfortunate it was that she was the maid of honor and it was her duty to help her soon-to-be sister-in-law in all things wedding related.

Ginny winced as she thought of last night. Conversations immediately ceased as both she and Harry appeared at the backyard where the huge Weasley clan was holding the Memorial dinner. Eyes darted at the two of them followed by a deafening silence only broken by her two-year old niece Lucy who started running towards her screaming 'Auntie Ginny, Auntie Ginny'. Her mother then hurriedly enveloped Harry in a hug and whisked him to a chair in the middle of the table. She, on the other hand, seated herself at the far end on the opposite side to avoid any more weird looks.

The rest of the evening passed by in a blur, punctuated by childish banter from her and her brothers and occasional tantrums from the nieces and nephews. Every once in a while, she and Harry would catch each others' eyes, in which instances brief smiles were exchanged before turning back to their respective conversations. Towards the end, toasts were made by her father: first, to her brother Fred 'who was brave and fought for what he believed in', second, to all the war heroes who lost their lives for a better future, and lastly, to Harry 'who sacrificed everything for us all' to which everyone answered with 'Hear, hear!'

"How's it going in there?," Ginny asked, slumping on the couch as she waited for Hermione to slip into the ninth dress.

Hermione finally emerged from the fitting room. "What do you think?" she asked as she twirled in front of the mirror.

Ginny just caught herself before laughing out loud. "I don't think that's flattering on you," she said, eyeing the frilly, long-sleeved monstrosity.

"But it's got beautiful embroidery and lace trimmings and beads..."

"That makes you look like a Christmas tree," Ginny supplied. "Come on, Hermione, that looks like something from Helga Hufflepuff's time. We're going for vintage and chic, remember? Not outdated and fashionably-challenged," she reminded, trying to forget the fifth dress that looked like a tent and the seventh that resembled Snape's robes.

"Okay," Hermione conceded. "It does look a bit much," she said as she went back to the dressing room, picking up Ginny's choice on her way. "How did you manage to bring Harry yesterday, anyway? He's never gone before. We've asked him for years, you know, and he always made up a lame excuse," she hollered.

"I don't know. Right place, right time, I guess," she said off-handedly.

"Don't laugh, okay? I'm coming out," Hermione warned.

"I'll try and contain myself," Ginny joked.

Hermione walked out in a satin ivory princess-cut ball gown with a sweetheart neckline, delicately embroidered and beaded.

"Wow," was all Ginny managed to say.

"Yeah," Hermione said as she smiled at herself in the mirror, turning around to see how the train looked at the back. "It's perfect. I love it!"

"Am I good or what?"

"I've got to hand it to you, Ginny. You play Quidditch like a man but you're a goddess when it comes to fashion," she quipped.

"Thanks. That's exactly the kind of compliment I want to hear," Ginny snickered.

"Here's your dress, Ms. Weasley. Sorry for the delay. New trainee's not yet mastered resizing," Madam Malkin said, handing over the one gown Ginny chose.

"Go on, Ginny. I'll wait right here," Hermione said, still admiring her gown in the mirror.

A minute later, Ginny came out in an elegant emerald green A-line number, fitted at the waist and tied with a ribbon at the back. "What do you think?," she asked, scrutinizing herself in front of the mirror. "It's not too low is it?" she asked, indicating the revealing sweetheart neckline.

"It's gorgeous, Ginny. It's perfect! Perfect for giving Ryan a heart attack," Hermione teased.

"Very funny," she said, going back to the fitting room to change into her jeans.

"I can see you won't be needing my help in this department when it's your turn to walk down the aisle."

Ginny turned serious. "Well, you may never have to endure that. I may never get married."

Hermione went to a separate stall to change. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm sure Ryan's thinking about it," Hermione said, puzzled at her friend's statement. They had vowed while they were still at Hogwarts that they would be each other's maid of honor. She was sure that meant they were planning on getting hitched in the future. "Ginny? You still there?" Hermione bellowed as her friend turned silent.

"Do you know why things ended with Dean and Ronson?," she suddenly asked.

Hermione tried to recall the reason. "You said it wasn't working out."

"That wasn't true," Ginny confessed. "They both proposed and I refused. I couldn't...I wasn't ready," she whispered.

"Oh, Ginny."

"And then they left. Why couldn't what we had be enough?," she asked.

"Ginny, I think they loved you and wanted to be with you forever. But they probably saw it in your eyes," she confided.

"Saw what?"

"That it's not that you weren't ready. You just didn't want to marry them," she replied.

Ginny thought about what Hermione said as they placed their orders with the assistant and exited the shop. _Was she lying to herself all those times? More importantly, was this the reason why she didn't want Ryan to propose to her, too?_

They headed towards a sidewalk cafe for a snack, Hermione looking at her watch every few minutes and scanning the crowd for Ron. "He's late! If he doesn't get here in the next five minutes, _I'm_ going to be late for my meeting!"

"Go on, Hermione. I'll wait right here. Everything will be fine," Ginny convinced her.

"Great! Here's the list of appointments for the rest of the afternoon," Hermione said, handing over a piece of parchment as she gathered her stuff and prepared to Apparate. "And no matter what, don't let Ron choose a Veela-themed invitation," she said before she disappeared.

Not a moment passed before another pop was heard and Ginny gasped "Harry!"

He strolled casually to where she was sitting. "Ron got stuck in trial. He said I'm supposed to help because I'm best man," he explained. "I hear there's cake in the itinerary," he said, grinning.

A/N: Too much drama? Well, I had to get that out of the way. Now that that's over with, we can start having more Harry-Ginny action. Yay!

An afternoon planning a wedding? Hmmm...lots of possibilities.

Every bit of comment helps so review, review, review. It makes my day


	6. Chapter 6 An Altered Scheme

**Chapter 6 An Altered Scheme**

A/N: No update last week, I know. I'm truly sorry. Things were a bit busy and I admit, I had little imagination last week. Here's to hoping I make it up to all of you.

To Panda's Shoes: Thanks for the awesome review.

In a totally unrelated note, Inception was brilliant! I recommend you see it this weekend if you haven't already!

* * *

Ginny's eyebrows rose. "Ron's stuck in trial?"

Harry sat down and picked up the menu, reading the list to avoid looking at her. "What? That's a valid reason," he retorted.

"Only if it's true!," Ginny said. "How much did he pay you?"

"You have a very suspicious mind. You should join my team."

"You're changing the subject," she objected.

Harry leaned back and sighed, a smile forming on his lips. "Fine. You caught me. He's on his desk finishing the paperwork from his last five cases."

Ginny was not impressed. "You're the head of the team. You could've let him off just this afternoon."

"See, that's not exactly the kind of work ethic I want my team to learn," he grinned.

"Wow, you're really set on doing this, aren't you? You should know we're not just going to deal with food here. There's the florist to see to and the invitations to choose," warned Ginny.

"I don't care as long as there's cake at the end," he declared as he signalled for a waiter to take his order.

"You know, you're a lot more chipper than you were seven years ago," Ginny observed, sipping her latte.

"Voldemort's death does that to a man," he replied.

They went to Bloompott's after they finished with their coffees. As usual, the salesladies were a little overexcited at Harry's presence, which she had found out he had mastered handling after all these years.

"Smooth," Ginny commented after the assistant left them on their table to look at a catalogue. She still couldn't believe how he got them quietly lead out of the spotlight without being rude or snobbish. He just smiled, inquired at the desk and they were seated at a corner away from prying eyes.

"Nah. It's just a tactic I learned from Auror training. You keep moving and the enemy won't know what hit them," he said as he scanned the catalogue.

"I should try that," Ginny said thoughtfully.

"You should," Harry advised, flipping pages aimlessly. "Is there any particular thing we should be looking for?"

"Greens," Ginny replied.

"Green flowers?" Harry asked disbelievingly. "Like ... broccoli?"

"No, idiot! Foliage. Hermione doesn't want fluffy, girly stuff and neither does Ron."

"A wedding with no flowers," Harry mused. "That's a little weird."

"I agree. Maybe we should add just one flower, nothing too flashy, just to balance things out," she suggested.

Harry nodded. "Good idea."

The two of them selected three kinds of foliages, among them a plant called Purple Heart that had vivid green, palm-sized, round leaves that had purple heart patterns in them. However, they had a hard time picking the one flower they agreed was sorely missing.

"How about this one, it's plain white," Harry said, pointing to a picture of miniature star-shaped clusters.

Ginny leaned forward for a closer look. "Oh. Glimps. That won't do," she said dismissively.

"Why not?" Harry objected. "They look pretty good to me."

"Those are the flowers we used when we buried great old Uncle Niall, that's why," Ginny explained.

"Right. Sorry."

"What about this? It says here it's called Sundance," Ginny said, holding the page of yellow orbs to Harry.

"Sure," Harry snorted, reading the fine-print below, "if you want 'brilliant golden yellow blooms that sway'."

"What?" Ginny snapped the catalogue. "I don't believe this! Maybe we should just get Muggle roses and be done with it."

"Hold on. These are lovely," Harry said.

"It doesn't do the jig, does it?" Ginny asked suspiciously.

"No! Look. It's called Phoenix tears." Harry handed the page to her.

Ginny was silent for a moment, reading the description first to find out if the flower wailed, which she was glad it didn't. But Harry was right. It was beautiful. "This looks amazing," she whispered as she gazed at the crystal-clear teardrop petals alternately lined in a delicate pale green stem. "They would look great with the fairy lights or ... whatever lighting fixture Hermione won't object to. But doesn't the name sound, I don't know, like sad, don't you think?" she asked tentatively, pondering if a flower's name could jinx a marriage.

"Hmmm. I don't think it's sad at all. Phoenix tears are actually healing," Harry replied, remembering the time when one such creature saved his life when he went to rescue Ginny. "I think it would be a positive symbol of their relationship."

"You're right. Let's use this one."

They then called the consultant and asked for arrangement samples based on their chosen pieces. She was competent at designing centrepieces and aisle displays and Ginny almost liked her if she didn't flirt with Harry for the whole thirty minutes they talked. When they left, they had brought dozens of design sheets for Hermione and Ron to approve.

"That took too long," Harry complained as he almost ran from the flower shop, breathing heavily.

"The consultant was a little enthusiastic," Ginny commented.

"Right," Harry bit back. "Towards the end I thought she was trying to sell her soul, the way she kept sidling close to me."

Ginny smiled as she kept pace with Harry. "I didn't think you noticed. You were so cool about it."

"Ginny, a flobberworm would have noticed," Harry said as he continued to race the stone steps. "Don't you ever bring me back there again!"

"But I thought we'd bring Hermione back on Saturday to show her live samples," Ginny said, stopping on her tracks.

Harry turned back at her, ready to tell her off, when he saw the wicked glint in her eye and the corners of her lips twitch. "Very bloody funny!" he yelled, crossing his arms as he saw Ginny start laughing.

"Too true! I'd sell this story if I knew anyone would believe you were scared of a saleslady," Ginny said in between laughter.

Harry scowled, crossing his arms. "Can we move on now? I thought we had other appointments."

She took a minute to compose herself and by that time, she saw people had started spotting them and coming their way for autographs and pictures. "Come on, we're Apparating," she quickly decided, grabbing his hand and thinking of their destination.

Harry thought Ginny might have overconcentrated because they had landed right inside Dates and Letters'. Not one saleslady was behind the desk, which was a giant relief for Harry, but the shop was busy with the sounds of ancient-looking metal printers that were shooting out multicoloured parchments and sealing themselves in individual envelopes. The process was fascinating and they remained speechless staring at the different special effects incorporated in each invitation. There was one that had a voice reciting a poem off the paper, another had moving pictures of the bride and groom and another that folded itself origami-style into paper unicorns."

"It's quite amazing, isn't it?" said the old man who came out of the door behind the desk. He had a kind smiling face, thinning gray hair and a jolly voice. "I'm Thomas Dates. Call me Tom. How can I be of service?" he asked.

"Good afternoon. I'm ..."

"Harry Potter," Mr. Dates supplied excitedly, just having recognized his face. "I was hoping I would be chosen to help you with this momentous occasion," he stated humbly. "Let me be the first to congratulate you, Mr. Potter. And this must be the future Mrs. Potter," he said as he eyed Harry and Ginny's linked hands.

The two of them were startled at the assumption and quickly disentangled their hands, looked at each other and burst out laughing. The proprietor looked puzzled.

Harry started explaining. "We're not really getting married, Tom," he began.

"Nope," Ginny seconded. "We're here as Maid of Honor and Best Man. I'm Ginny Weasley, by the way, best friend of the bride, sister to the groom," she said, holding out her hand to Mr. Dates.

Tom promptly apologized and shook their hands. He toured them first inside the shop, explaining the key steps of printing and later, sat them down to look at lists to choose from.

It took them more than two hours picking out the invitations, not having realized how many types of parchment there were, how many colors, finishes, fonts and magical enhancements existed. It was a relief that Hermione had already drafted the words to be written on the invite or they would not have finished by midnight.

In the end, they chose a matte ivory parchment with a thin, curvy stripe as a border. Once the paper was unfolded, piano music started to play (Ginny's idea) and the words, written in French script, subtly fade in one by one (Harry's idea). The backdrop was of a crystal blue lake where two snow-white swans glide in and find each other towards the end of the music (both their contribution).

The two of them were feeling pretty good with themselves when they left the shop, bearing a sample of their hardwork. Though it took some effort, they had a great time and Mr. Dates was very helpful in assisting them. He even asked them to consider having their own wedding invitations made there when it was their turn, to which they were happy to oblige him.

"So where to now?" Harry asked as he took the itinerary from Ginny and read. "Bakeshop. No name and no address. How are we supposed to know where to find this place?" he said, waving the piece of parchment.

"Relax. I know the place. It's just near here. We can walk," she said as she lead him on to a dusty road a couple of blocks away from town.

"Are you sure there's a bakeshop around here?" he said as he looked around the lane where there were fewer houses and more trees.

"We're not actually going to the shop. We're going to the baker's house. Her name's Griselda and she owns Tea n' Cakes at Hogsmeade. She's an old family friend and if I'm not mistaken, she's done all the cakes in three generations of Weasley weddings," Ginny related.

"She did George and Angelina's cake? The white chocolate raspberry?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Wow. You do love cake."

They turned right on the next bend and finally reached a homey cottage with a huge expanse of garden in front. Ginny knocked twice on the door and was opened by a little boy of about ten.

"Good afternoon. My name's Ginny and I'm looking for Griselda," she said.

The little boy let them in and a minute later, a graceful looking old woman came out to greet them. "Ginny, how nice to see you. I didn't know you were getting married," she said as she hugged Ginny.

"That's because I'm not. It's Ron whose getting married and I was sent here as Maid of Honor to help with the preparations. By the way, this is the Best Man, Harry Potter," she said by way of introduction.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Harry," Griselda said, shaking his hand. "You don't mind me calling you Harry, do you? It's just the Weasleys and I go way back and their friends are dear to me also," Griselda said in an elegant, friendly tone.

"That's perfectly fine. You can call me whatever you like if you will feed me cake," Harry teased. "I've gone to your shop once in Hogsmeade and had your almond amaretto cream cake and I have to confess, since then I always find an excuse to go there just to try the other flavors."

Griselda was amused and walked them towards the kitchen where they would be doing the tasting. "I don't usually bring customers here, you see. Just friends. Little Ginny's grandmother and I actually grew up together and she was the one who convinced me to open a bakeshop," she narrated as she opened the double doors.

The scent of baked goods quickly hit the senses and Harry was totally amazed at the space Griselda merely called a kitchen. Mountains of wire racks were stacked with different kinds of cakes and pastries, three witches were supervising what looked to be mixing tanks and ovens and one young lady was alone by a far table icing a three-tiered wedding cake.

"You know Griselda, I can be trained to do these things," Harry jokingly said, knowing how Hansel and Gretel must have felt. Griselda just laughed it off.

They sat themselves on stools and were served on a counter with different flavoured cakes. By the end of the tasting session, they had agreed on Italian orange and vanilla as Hermione was partial to something fruity and Ron was partial to any type of cake Griselda makes. They showed the invitation to her and she agreed to design the cake from the same theme.

The two of them left the bakeshop with bursting stomachs and giddy smiles, invitation and floral designs all in an envelope.

"Well, I had fun, Harry," Ginny said as they stood on the doorway.

Harry smiled. "Yeah, me too. Who knew planning a wedding could be a great experience?"

Ginny chuckled. "Right. Well, I should get home. Ryan's probably wondering what took so long," she said awkwardly, holding out her hand to shake Harry's, only Harry went for a hug and it turned into a combination of both.

"I'll bring these round to Ron and Hermione's tonight," Harry said, indicating the envelope.

"Okay. And remind Hermione that Griselda will be sending the cake design by owl tomorrow," she advised.

"I will."

"See you, Harry," Ginny said. With a final wave, she Apparated back to the apartment.

She was still sporting a huge smile when she entered the den.

"I see you had a good day," Ryan said, putting down the newspaper. "I thought you were dreading helping Hermione plan the wedding."

"Hermione had a meeting later in the afternoon so she left and Ron wasn't able to make it because of work so Harry chipped in," Ginny related, sitting herself beside Ryan on the couch.

"Who's Harry?"

"Harry Potter, silly! Ron's Best Man. I can't believe you forgot," Ginny said teasingly. "You're getting older by the day."

"Must be the new broom line. I'm a little stressed out," Ryan reasoned. "A parcel came for you, by the way, when I came home. It's in the table in the hallway."

Ginny was wondering who could have sent her anything or if she ordered Quidditch gear lately when she held the package with her name written on it. She looked for the card. There wasn't any so she tore the brown paper wrapping and lifted up a small red clay pot planted with three intertwined stems with oval leaves sprouting at the tips. Tied at the stem was a card that read simply:

_Just so you'll have your 'brilliant golden yellow blooms that sway.'_

_Harry

* * *

_

A/N: So what did you think? Did I do okay? Please review. It really helps a lot.


	7. Chapter 7 The Annual Holyhead Harpies Fu

**Chapter 7 The Annual Holyhead Harpies Fundraiser**

A/N: Hi there, all! Sorry for the long update, just busy. Thanks to everyone who added me to their Favorites and Alerts Lists. I'm humbled that you read my little story.

Little segue, have you guys heard Taylor Swift's new single? So cute. And Sugarland's Stuck Like Glue is great, too.

* * *

"There. All done," Ron declared, putting the stack of papers on Harry's desk first thing Thursday morning.

"Great doing business with you, mate," Harry replied, taking one folder and scanning the written report. Technically, he was supposed to do the work but Ron pleaded to do it instead of doing the wedding preparations with Ginny. Both of them hated paperwork and Ron volunteering to do it meant he was really desperate. He had gone a day off looking for possible venues with Hermione two weeks ago and seriously thought of just eloping. So he took pity on him and agreed to trade places in exchange for a reasonable fee.

Ron sat there, a look of disbelief on his face. "You don't look scarred."

"Why would I be scarred?" Harry asked, still reading the case files.

"Oh, I don't know! The florist's? The printer's?" Ron enumerated in an incredulous tone, thinking the words alone might suffocate him.

"Oh, that. I have to thank you for that. I've never had a more enjoyable afternoon," Harry said thoughtfully. "Although I won't mind never going back to Bloompott's for the rest of my life."

"Ginny wore you down with flower talk," Ron snickered.

"No. It was the shop assistant. She kept flirting with me."

"Oh," Ron said, confused.

"Ginny was great at choosing things, though," Harry said, thinking of the Sundance he asked the saleslady to deliver to Ginny's when she went to the Ladies' Room to freshen up. He knew she would have laughed at the joke. "And the printer's was unbelievable. We even promised Tom Dates to have our invitations done there."

"Ah-huh," Ron droned.

"And the baker's, well, you know Griselda. No complaints there," Harry finished, reminiscing about the chocolate cherry cake he highly favoured.

"I can't believe it," Ron said, disgusted. "You were out having fun while I was slaving away at the office."

"You begged," Harry reminded him.

"I know. I should've traded with you when Hermione and I looked at venues."

"I thought Hermione said that went well."

"Only after we went back and forth five places," Ron said.

"You know Hermione, she wants everything perfect."

"Right," Ron said, about to go back to his desk when he remembered something. "I forgot to congratulate you. Congratulations!"

"What for?" Harry asked, baffled.

"Cornelia? The proposal? I take it she said yes."

"That. I ... um," Harry stammered. "I didn't propose."

"Why? I thought you had everything planned out."

"Because," he started out. "Because she isn't treacle tart."

"Who said anything about treacle tart?"

"You did! You said Hermione's your caramel pecan pie. And I realized Cornelia's not my treacle tart," Harry explained, half-thinking himself stupid for saying it out loud.

Ron went silent for a minute. "So you broke up with her?"

"No! It was our anniversary dinner. She gave me a gold-plated quill, Ron. I couldn't do it then," he said defensively. "Then she went to Ireland for a three-day family event and won't be back until tomorrow afternoon to go to a fundraiser with me. Shit!" Harry realized. He didn't know how he'd break up with Cornelia.

* * *

Ginny smiled as she looked at the morning sky, her own Firebolt slung in her shoulder. After all these years, she still couldn't believe how lucky she was to be doing what she always dreamed of when she was a little girl.

Right after finishing at Hogwarts, she was at a loss as to what the future held for her. She wasn't really planning on playing Quidditch for a living. Her mother was against it for one, said it was too dangerous for her only girl. Secondly, she never thought her skills were at par with the pros. Eventually, she decided on a job with the Ministry, just like her father and Percy.

It was pure coincidence that she heard there were tryouts for the Harpies while she was on her way to a job interview. Without even thinking, she threw caution to the wind and ditched the interview right then and there, got her Quidditch gear and did her best moves on her broom. And even though she got an owl a week later telling her she only qualified as Reserve Chaser, she was over the moon about it. She never regretted her choice.

It was a little over a year before she became a regular Chaser and that almost didn't happen. Rumours that the Harpies franchise was closing because of financial difficulties started to spread. Even their manager told them there were problems. But then a month passed and the talk died down, their contracts were renewed and everything went back to normal. Five years later and she couldn't be happier with her career.

"Nice day for flying, isn't it?"

"It seems so, Mr. Thames," Ginny smiled at the approaching handsome old man who was the Holyhead Harpies owner. He had always insisted that they call him Robert but it seemed disrespectful for a man of his stature.

"And yet there's no scheduled practice today. What are you doing here, Ginny? Shouldn't you be home obsessing over your hair and your dress before tonight's fundraiser?" inquired Mr. Thames, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Nah. I'm not much for worrying about such things until the last minute," she dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Especially with a beautiful weather like this, that would be a waste of time."

"You are so right my dear," Mr. Thames jovially agreed. "Well, I'll be off. Lots of work to do. I'll see you tonight, Ginny," he said, bowing his head.

"Good day, Mr. Thames," she replied, kicking her feet from the ground and starting with her warm-up laps.

The rest of the day proved very productive for Ginny. Right before noon, she had perfected the trick pass the team had been working on these last few days in her trusty old Firebolt. She then went shopping for food supplies and dropped by Flourish and Blott's and bought a book entitled "Petting Your Plants: How to Tend to Emotional Perrenials."

She started reading it when she got home, following the instructions by replacing her pot of Sundance near the kitchen window as it said they needed morning sunlight, watering it with a quarter cup of lemonade because they thrived in acidic conditions and turning on the radio to encourage it to grow faster and produce perfectly round, vibrant flowers.

She tidied up the sparsely-decorated apartment a little then took a much-deserved nap. When 5:30 came, she got up and started preparing herself. She showered and put on make-up, something she didn't do often and donned the haltered aubergine sheath dress she bought years ago but had not worn. She had never really planned on going to this year's fundraiser and as a result, she hadn't made time to shop for anything to wear. There might have been something that would fit her in Hogsmeade but she wanted one that was special as it was the first public event she and Ryan were going to as a couple. Most of the gowns she owned had been worn more than twice except for this one which Hermione had convinced her to buy in one of their rare shopping sprees. She was glad now that she did. The silhouette showcased her statuesque figure. It was tasteful enough that it wasn't too revealing in front but still sexy enough that her back was bare almost to the waist.

By a quarter to seven, she was ready and was waiting in the den for Ryan to Floo home and fetch her. The minutes ticked by and Ginny grew impatient. She didn't like being late on these kinds of occasions and Ryan was cutting it awfully fine.

Around ten past seven, the fireplace roared but instead of her date coming out, it was another man's head that was hovering out of the grate.

"Raymond? What's wrong? Where's Ryan?" Ginny immediately asked of Ryan's technical supervisor.

"Good evening, Miss Weasley. I'm sorry to interrupt your lovely evening but Mr. Bolt asked me to tell you he won't be able to get home on time. There was a glitch in the production of the Thunderbolt line and he needed to assist."

"I see," Ginny replied, masking the disappointment in her voice.

"I'm really sorry, Ms. Weasley. He said he'll catch up and to save him a seat."

"That's fine. Thanks, Raymond."

"You look marvellous, by the way. Have a good night," he said before disappearing.

Ginny let out a deep sigh. She shouldn't have expected tonight to be perfect.

* * *

"Harry! You made it!" Robert Thames exclaimed as he spotted Harry though the throng of people arriving in the hall.

Harry beamed as he led Cornelia, clad in a sparkling long, cream gown, to where the Holyhead Harpies owner was standing. "Good to see you, Robert. You remember Cornelia?" he said, shaking the man's hand and reintroducing his date.

"I couldn't forget her beautiful face even if I tried," jested Robert, taking Cornelia's hand and kissing it. "I'm sure both of you would have a good time. I've been inviting Harry to this event for several years now and it's the first time he's come. Tonight, he'll see what he's been missing," Robert laughed.

"Oh, come on, Robert. You know I've been busy," Harry argued good-naturedly.

Cornelia smiled. "Don't worry, Mr. Thames. We'll enjoy ourselves."

The two of them circulated the room, having found a lot of Cornelia's acquaintances in attendance, most of them society's elite Harry had never met in his life. He excused himself after a little while, said he was going to get them drinks.

He stood near the drinks table longer than necessary, trying to avoid more upper class introductions, the very reason he neglected coming for a long time. He didn't hate the people exactly, just wasn't really one of them to care.

The fundraiser had already been a success, he surmised as he looked around the hall and saw the enormous number of people who turned up. There was no doubt the Holyhead Foundation would raise more than enough for its community projects for the next year.

When Harry could no longer postpone it, he headed back to where Cornelia was, two stems of champagne on his hands. Just then, whispers began erupting and heads turned on the staircase where a ravishingly beautiful woman was descending. He was still too far to recognize who she was but already, he can see her stunning purple dress stood out from the sea of tired whites, blacks and grays. Her red locks were swept up in a loose updo, wisps of wavy hair falling down to frame her face. She looked around the room, as if trying to find a familiar face, when her gaze landed in his direction and she smiled.

Lucky chap, Harry thought but as she neared, he realized the redhead was actually smiling at him and only when he was a few yards away did he understand why.

"Ginny!" he gasped aloud as they came face to face.

"Hi! Is that champagne? Thanks!" she said, taking the glass and downing the liquid in one gulp before Harry could respond.

"Gin, are you okay?" he asked, a bit concerned at her behaviour.

"I am now," she laughed. "Thanks for the drink. I'll see you around," she said before diving into the crowd.

They didn't get to talk again as they were led to the dining hall for a sit-down dinner. Harry and Cornelia were seated in Robert Thames' table while Ginny sat with her teammates in another.

"Who do you keep looking at, sweetheart?" Cornelia asked, nudging Harry lightly in the ribs. "I'm starting to get jealous," she joked.

"Sorry. It's Ginny. Something's wrong with her," he confided.

"Ginevra Weasley, right? I caught her earlier in the Ladies'. She seemed fine," she related.

"I know. But she's upset," he said, knowing she was on her third glass of champagne. She was talking animatedly to the girl on her right but her smile wasn't reaching her eyes.

The fundraiser proceeded with the usual – opening speech (with Robert acknowledging his presence at one point), dinner, and a variety of activities devised to make one give more money than intended. By the time the Auction started, he was able to leave their table with the excuse of getting a little fresh air and did what he had wanted to do all night: talk to Ginny.

He found her at the balcony towards the back of the hall. "Hey there, Sundance. That's enough juice for you," he greeted, taking the fourth glass from her hand.

"Very funny, Cake Boy. Give that back," Ginny glared.

"No! You're approaching drunk and that's not safe for when you travel home," he warned.

Ginny was about to tell him off when she realized her error. "You're right. I'm sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn't have come tonight."

Harry would have preferred that she fought him instead of seeing her with her head bowed and looking defeated. "Gin, is everything okay?"

"Don't worry about me, Harry. I'm fine," she said, conjuring a little smile on her face. "It's just ... things didn't go as planned and it's ruining my night. Go on, you don't have to babysit me. I'll be okay in here."

"Oh, I don't want to. I've lost a lot of galleons and I don't think I can win a date with your teammate Genevieve with a couple of coins," he informed her. Ginny chuckled at that. "How come they're not auctioning you? They'd be able to afford to build a house if they did."

"Hah! Actually, they already did last year and I'm proud to say it helped pay for twenty kids' riding lessons for the summer."

"I'm sorry I missed it. Who was the lucky winner?"

"An old gentleman from New Zealand. He was really funny, actually, showed me pictures of his grandchildren throughout dinner," she related, laughing at the recollection.

The two of them talked more about past years' fundraisers and by the end of it, Harry became truly sorry for missing such funny episodes. He was glad, though, that Ginny had stopped sulking and was in a more cheerful mood. They were right in the middle of the story of how Robert turned up soaking wet three years ago when Cornelia came.

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you. Hi, Ginny."

"Oh. Well, Ginny's just been telling me some really amusing stories from past fundraisers," he said. "How about you? Have you spent all your galleons at the auction?"

"Most of them. I went looking for you because I'm fairly tired and I wanted to go home. Is that alright?" she asked apologetically.

"Yes, of course," he told Cornelia. "How about you, Ginny? Would you like us to drop you off?"

"No, thanks. I'll just go inside and find the Harpies, mingle a bit."

"Right. Well, good night," Harry said.

When both of them had bid her goodbyes, they left.

* * *

"Who on Merlin's long, white beard could be knocking at this hour?" Ron groaned as insistent raps on the door went on.

"It might be important. I'll get up," Hermione volunteered even though she was still groggy from sleep.

"It could be an axe murderer in there. I'll come with you," he said, treading heavily on the carpet and shaking himself awake. Something awful must have happened for someone to interrupt past midnight. He tried not to think what it might be.

They both went down to the hall and when they opened the door, they found a weeping Ginny on their doorstep, suitcase in hand.

"Ryan and I had a ... a row," she managed between hiccups. "And I ... I left."

* * *

A/N: Yeah, well, it was time for them to break up. I'm sure most of you are cheering. Haha! I am, too.

By the way, have you noticed how Cornelia keeps smiling in every scene. It's very annoying. I'll only be too happy when Harry breaks up with her.

Thanks in advance for reviewing! And if you haven't yet, this is your big chance. Review,review, review!


	8. Chapter 8 The Case Of The Barn

**Chapter 8 The Case Of The Barn**

A/N: I've recently re-read my first fic and I found I used the name Cornelia in there, too. She was a healer I (or Hermione) just mentioned in passing but I thought it was strange that I used the name twice now. How weird is that?

By the way, I'd like to thank the readers who have stuck with me since "Don't Forget." I like reading readers' profiles and I noticed some were from the first fic. So here's to all of you: Thank you!

Henrietta means home ruler.

* * *

"Ginny? Are you awake?" Hermione whispered.

Ginny squinted one eye. "Barely. What time is it?"

"It's seven-thirty. Ron's already left for work and I'm on my way, too," she replied hastily.

"Okay. I'll see you later," Ginny said, closing her eyes. She still had another hour before she had to get ready for practice. When she sensed that Hermione hadn't moved, she asked "Did you want to say something else?"

"No," she hesitated. "Well ...yes."

Ginny sighed and sat up on the couch.

Hermione seated herself beside her friend. "You know you're welcome to stay here as long as you like, right? We don't really mind."

Ginny was touched. She had taken refuge in Ron and Hermione's couch for three days now and the two of them had been very understanding, doing what they could to cheer her up. Their apartment only had one bedroom, as their new home was still in the early stages of construction, and though most of her stuff were still in the suitcase, it was noticeable that it had cramped the living space even more.

"But _I_ mind, Hermione," she patiently told her. "I don't want to spend months on your couch. I need my own place. I ... I think I have to move on," she said, implying the conversation she had with them the night before of starting to look for a new apartment. Ron was against the idea, telling her how many violent cases he'd had involving young women who lived alone. She was safer with family, he'd said and asked her to consider moving back to the Burrow while she looked for a roommate. But she'd made up her mind. She was moving out.

Hermione left and Ginny went to sleep once more. An hour later, she got up and got ready, taking care to feed her owl Hennie (short for Henrietta) and leaving the radio on for her Sundance before going out.

Both Ron and Hermione were shocked when she went to practice the very next morning after the break-up. They suggested that she take a sick day and clear her head but she stomped on that idea like she would a Doxy. She didn't need time to think. She'd been thinking about it since it happened and it was just making her head ache. But if she was playing Quidditch, she'd forget everything else other than scoring a goal and flying and she preferred it that way.

Even now that it's been three days, she still couldn't believe how fast everything ended. She stayed only a half hour after Harry and Cornelia left before she went home, too. When she got home, Ryan wasn't there yet and just then, she got angry. She was mad that he didn't catch up at the fundraiser and ashamed that Mr. Thames asked for him three times during the night. He didn't even send word that he wouldn't be able to make it at all.

By the time Ryan came home, it had already been midnight and Ginny was furious. He started going on and on about what went wrong with the brooms and how he'd solved the problem with a simple charm. Then she blew up at him, telling him he should've at least taken an hour to drop by because he'd been expected, that her teammates and Mr. Thames were asking why he wasn't with her and she had to make excuses and most importantly, that he promised her he'd be there and he didn't come.

Ryan apologized and then defended himself, telling her it had been an emergency and he couldn't trust his second-in-command to handle the Thunderbolt line.

"But it's way past working hours," Ginny shrieked. "And it's Friday, Ryan! People do other things besides work! Life doesn't revolve around broomsticks!"

"But broomsticks are my life!" he replied hastily before thinking and realized his mistake a little too late. Ginny had summoned her trunk and was making quick work of shrinking her belongings and packing them into the luggage.

He tried to stop her, telling her again and again how he didn't mean what he said and the words came out the wrong way but she didn't listen. Up until now, she'd let his absences slip, like the time he couldn't make it to her mother's birthday party because a meeting ran late, or he missed his nephew boarding the train to Hogwarts because a client came by the office, or the number of times she invited hi m to watch her game and he said he couldn't because it might not look good with the other teams Bolt Enterprises sponsored. Truth was, it just wasn't important for him so he didn't make time. She realized if they got married now, this was what life would be like – a relationship fitted into his tight schedule, given that no broomstick emergency ever occurred.

The worst part was, she had actually started considering saying yes if and when he proposed, convincing herself he probably was _The One_, and the bastard didn't even have the decency to remember to ask her to marry him.

So she was pathetic, she thought as she exited the locker room after training. She was twenty-two, single, unattached and homeless. _But at least I could do something about that last description, _she mused. She was on her way to London to look at some flats advertised in the Prophet yesterday. If she was lucky, she'd be out of Ron's before the end of the day. And speaking of Ron, "Ron!" she hollered, seeing her brother laughing with Mr. Thames and Harry.

"Ginny!" Ron yelled back from across the stadium where Mr. Thames had his offices. He motioned for her to approach them.

"Mr. Thames, good afternoon," she said to the old man. "What's Harry and my brother talking to you about?" she asked, suspiciously looking from one to the other.

"Oh, nothing about business, dear girl. Just idle chit-chat while these lads were waiting for you," Robert Thames explained.

"Right."

"Well, now that you're here, I guess I'll get back to work. Nice talking to you, gentlemen. Ginny," he said, bowing his head and heading back to his paperwork.

"So," Ginny finally said when Mr. Thames was out of earshot. "What are the two of you doing here?"

"We're here to pick you up," Ron answered in a serious tone.

"We didn't make plans, did we?" she asked, wondering if she somehow forgot a date. "Because I'm going somewhere."

"This is more important, Ginny. You have to come with us. It's about the Barn Case," Harry whispered.

Ginny racked her brain for any Barn witch or wizard she knew but the surname didn't ring any bells. "I don't know any ..." she had started to say but Ron cut her off.

"We can't talk about it here. It's top secret."

"Uh, o-kay."

Ginny hadn't a clue what was going on but since the matter seemed urgent, she reluctantly cancelled her house-hunting plans and let Ron Apparate them to where they were going.

The three of them reappeared in a yard, a few meters from which a half-built house was being constructed by a dozen wizards in orange overalls.

"Ron, you prat! You Apparated us to your house!" Ginny exclaimed, thinking Ron might have lied to her all along and had started plotting a Bat-Bogey Hex on the shin.

"Oh, yeah. Just a little detour. I needed to see how the builders were getting on. Wait here," Ron said, moving towards one of the guys levitating a huge stone block.

"I can't believe we're stopping here. I thought the Barn Case was pressing," Ginny said disgustingly as she turned to Harry.

"Ron promised five minutes, tops. And anyway, the Barn's is just a few houses from here," he reassured her.

"I thought Pratchett's Point was one of the safest magical communities," she confided to Harry. "My teammate Genevieve and her husband once planned on buying a place here, just for the security, but she said the prices were sky high." Even now, she was amazed Ron and Hermione were able to afford the land and the house (with the help of a loan from Gringott's, of course), but they both insisted it was a good investment, especially when they start a family a few years from now.

"It is. There are security enchantments here that are much like what Hogwarts has. Outsiders cannot directly Apparate in unless they're Side-Apparated by a homeowner, or they'd have to wait at a designated spot called Pratchett's Point," he related, indicating the shed at the end of the lane where the name was written in a stone marker.

"But you were able to Apparate in all by yourself," Ginny said, spotting a loophole.

"I'm an Auror," he reminded her. "That means I have access everywhere."

"How convenient," she quipped.

"Well, yeah. Especially when you're rushing yourself to St. Mungo's in the middle of the night for emergency healing," he replied.

She quickly apologized, trying not to think of Harry in the situation he described, though she knew it happened occasionally in his line of work.

In the end, Ron told them to go ahead. The basement plans had gone awry and he was needed for amendments. He told them to wait for him because he would catch up. So the two went on, Harry leading them out of Ron's yard and into the cobblestone street.

Harry played tour guide as they walked. "That one belongs to Cindy Goodkind," he said, pointing out a pink Victorian house. "She's one of Helga Hufflepuff's direct descendants. And the next one's owned by Adam Blott, son of the founder of Flourish and Blott's. Pretty decent chap, Adam. Most of the neighbours are, actually. They're prominent people but they're friendly. The homeowners' association are wary of the Rita Skeeters, they won't let them in."

"Now I know why Ron and Hermione chose this place," she smiled.

When they reached the end of the block, they took another turn and entered the first fenced in yard lined with Crabapple trees.

"We're not in any danger, are we?" Ginny asked, moving close to Harry and reaching for the wand in her pocket.

"It depends. How good are you at duelling?" Harry replied. Ginny stopped walking. "I'm kidding. We're safe," Harry laughed.

"Try being amusing one more time and I'll hex you," she threatened.

They traced the pathway in the orchard, passing a thicket of apple, plum and cherry trees. Finally, they reached the house.

"We're here. This is The Barn. Or as Ron and I call it, the Barn Case," Harry gestured toward the three-storey structure. The two of them referred to it as such in the office, as nobody else really knew about it, with the exception of Hermione.

"The Barn Case is a house?"

"Yes. It is."

"It's ... beautiful," she said, sweeping her gaze at the tall, red-painted wooden building. There were numerous glass windows and a porch stood on one side while on the other, a room was obviously added for extended space. The roof was symmetrically two-sided with two slopes on each side, making her think of a barn. "This wasn't really a ..."

"Barn? Yes. A dairy barn, to be exact. Let's go in," he said, moving towards the French doors and unlocking it with his wand.

Ginny was mystified at the turn of events but followed Harry in. The inside was much more beautiful than she could have imagined. There were rough hewn wooden floors and knotty pine walls and the cathedral ceilings were retained with its exposed beams. "This is amazing, Harry," she gasped. "But why are we here?"

"Well, this is my house and Ron said you were looking for a place. I thought, um, I suggested to Ron that maybe you'd like to live here for a while," he said sheepishly.

Ginny was vexed. "Is this another joke, Harry? Because I'm tired and I feel wretched and I don't think you and Ron should make fun of my break-up," she said sternly, forcing herself not to think about Ryan.

"I'm serious, Gin. I live in a leased condo near the Ministry but this is my house," he insisted. "I bought the property four years ago and instead of tearing down the barn, I had it restored. Still am, actually, which is why I can't sell it yet. I'm still working on the second and third floors but this one is all set up. I thought, if you wouldn't mind me working upstairs sometimes, you can rent this floor. I'd totally understand if you don't want to but I wanted you to know it's here if you need it," he finished in one long breath, waiting for what Ginny would say.

She grew quiet and just looked at him as though assessing if what he really said was true. Then all of a sudden, she hugged him.

"Thank you, Harry," she said when she finally let go. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," she sniffled.

"Well, I think we don't need to convince her anymore," Hermione smiled at Ron at the doorway.

* * *

A/N: I hope you guys didn't think I've abandoned this story. It's just been a little difficult to write. I had to look for a house for Harry on the internet. At first it was a sugar house, then a mill house, a farmhouse, until finally I found the dairy barn (the one with the gambrel roof). There are amazing renovated barns on the web and I thought it was just perfect for what I had in mind. More descriptions of the Barn on the next chapters.

Anyway, wasn't that very sweet of Harry? I thought it was a very Darcy-ish thing to do.

Review;)


	9. Chapter 9 Wise Words

A/N: Hey, long time, right? It took me a while to figure this story out. It's not exactly mapped out all the way through but I'm getting there. Please be patient with me. I'd like to thank MrsGinnyWeasleyPotter for jogging me out of my writer's block, jojor99 for being persistent and those of you who requested me to finish this fic. Lastly, credits to Colbie Caillat for inspiring me again, this time with her song "What If" and Lifehouse with the song "Easier To Be".

* * *

Let myself go, you were still there

Like coming home, coming up for air.

- Easier To Be by Lifehouse

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Chapter 9

The first week was particularly brutal for Ginny. She loved Ryan. She really did. In her mind, they would have had a decently happy future together. That is, until things came crashing down.

She spent her days off the Quidditch stadium alternating between congratulating herself on escaping a relationship doomed for failure and feeling miserable and crying at the thought that she might have committed the biggest mistake of her life. The only bright spot she can see from this mess was that at least she found a temporary sanctuary, a place to contemplate everything without the prying eyes of friends and family. She appreciated their help but she wasn't ready to face anyone yet. The pain was too fresh.

The Barn was the perfect hideaway. If Ginny could build one for this purpose, she'd make one in its exact likeness. It was truly beautiful – spacious and elegant in its simplicity while still maintaining its rustic origins and quaint charms. Best of all, the quiet allowed her to be alone with her thoughts.

She can see why Harry was attracted to the property. Though strangers may view the dairy barn as an old, derelict building, he saw the strong foundations, the beauty of the structure and the potential of restoring what once was broken into something whole again.

This week was better than the last. She had stopped sobbing herself to sleep and had just convinced herself that she did the right thing. She was exactly where she was supposed to be this time in her life. Fate has her reasons. At least that was what Harry said the other night when he came to finish painting one of the upstairs bedrooms.

She couldn't sleep so she went looking for him. "That's a lovely color," she said in a monotone as she stood on the open doorway, watching Harry roll the lavender paint on the smooth, bare wall. It was a simple up and down motion, nothing complicated that required much thinking, unlike her life. _Why can't my life be as simple as painting a wall_, she mused.

Harry turned back when she spoke and a worried look immediately registered on his face. "Ginny, are you alright?" he asked, putting down the roller and wiping his hands on a rag.

"I'm fine, Harry. Don't... don't worry," she stammered, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. "I'm okay." It was the wrong thing to say because her eyes rebelled and the dam broke.

"You're crying," he stated matter-of-factly.

Ginny turned back and quietly wiped the sudden tears with the back of her hand. "It's nothing."

Harry stood there, not knowing how to handle this kind of situation. He'd gladly take a Hungarian Horntail than a broken-hearted Ginny. So he did the only decent advice Ron gave him. "I'll make some tea," he said and went down to the kitchen.

The gesture did make her feel better. That and dumping her problems on Harry. She didn't mean to but tea had that effect on her. Harry had been kind to listen to her ramblings, especially since she interrupted his night chores. "I'm so sorry," she said once she realized she'd taken an hour of his time.

"Don't be. You're confused. It's perfectly understandable," he replied good-naturedly.

"Still, I shouldn't have..."

"Don't," Harry cut her off. "It's no big deal. We're friends, right?"

Ginny nodded, still embarrassed.

"Well, as your friend, it's my duty to tell you you're fine. You're where you're supposed to be."

"It doesn't feel fine," she confessed. "I wake up and remember it's over and I feel... lost."

"Number 5, Pratchett's Point," Harry deadpanned.

Ginny smiled in spite of her tears.

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. Everything was going to be alright.

"I know I'll get over it over time. I guess I'm just disappointed. I had all these plans," she said, a faraway look taking over her face. "I never considered for a second," she stopped, knowing this line of thinking would set her off again on a crying jag.

Harry thought for a moment. "The whole time I was fighting Voldemort, I was thinking of all the what ifs. What if my parents were alive? What if I wasn't the Chosen One? What if I was an ordinary wizard living an ordinary wizard's life? When Voldemort died, I realized there was a reason everything happened the way they did," Harry explained, looking her straight in the eye. "Gin, you are where you're supposed to be. You may not know it yet, but fate has her reasons."

With that, Harry sat up and went back to work, leaving Ginny pondering his parting words.

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A/N: Short, I know. I'm trying but it's been a while. I'm a little rusty. So, what do you think, besides the chapter being short?


	10. Chapter 10 Bend and Break

A/N: I didn't know this part would end up in chapter 10. I can't _believe_ I've written ten chapters. Holy heck! Song inspiration is "If Only" by Sara Jackson Holman (I was watching S02E24 of Castle when I wrote this!).

As always, thank you to every single one of the readers and much love to the reviewers.

Chapter 10 Bend and Break

Ginny woke up in a good mood for the first time since the break-up. Granted, she had fallen asleep on the couch, acquired a stiff neck and her feet were freezing from where the blanket had ridden up. Regardless, she felt ... light, like she had broken a fever of some sort. It was wonderful. She can hear the birds singing and feel the warmth of the bright sunshine slowly seep into her bones. It was that kind of a day.

Unburdening your troubles did make wonders for the soul, she mused. That was some grade A whining she did last night. The only thing that would have made it worse was if she was drunk. Poor Harry. He mustn't have seen that one coming or he'll have locked that door. She wouldn't have blamed him if he did. She'd avoided him like Azkaban since Voldemort's demise and now she was crying on his shoulder.

It had been awkward between them for years since that fateful night. She couldn't pinpoint any one reason for the estrangement, just that it happened. She supposed it could have been her relationship with Dean that kept him at bay. That and him falling off the grid for months after the war. Over time, they just fell out of touch. She knew her family and some of their closest friends suspected there was more to the soured relationship, a heated confrontation resulting in severe exchanged words between the two of them or something similarly dramatic. There wasn't. On the contrary, the relationship just got cold.

She felt a momentary twinge of regret for what happened. She should have been there for Harry. If nothing else, she was his friend. But she was hurting then, too. Fred died that night, along with several Order members and two of her closest school friends. She was in a state of depression for a while, a mourning stage she had to go through to heal.

It's a wonder Harry didn't hate her. But then again, that was Harry for you, she thought. He always did what was right. He was mature that way. She noticed he'd become more relaxed now, easier to laugh, more confident in his skin. You could see the weight of fighting Voldemort had been lifted from his shoulders by the crinkling in the corners of his eyes when he laughed. He was happy. That was important. She can see there were more sides to Harry now that she didn't see before. He could be sentimental at times and having fun at the simplest tasks. The magical world may view him as one of the greatest wizards of his time and yet, just the other day he was delighted to be eating a slice of her mum's treacle tart. It was funny, she thought. Some things had changed but a lot had stayed the same.

* * *

"Cornelia, what are you doing here?" Harry asked as he approached the door to his apartment. She was just standing there, her back leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, and her expression unreadable. It was a stark contrast to her always smiling face and he started to worry. "Is everything alright?"

"I came to say goodbye," she replied softly, her eyes darting to the floor.

Harry opened the door and ushered her in. "What do you mean 'goodbye'? You just got back from Ireland last week," he said, hanging his coat on the rack. He turned to get hers but she made no move to take it off. Instead, she walked towards the floor-to-ceiling window down the hall and stared at the bustle of people milling the streets. "Cornelia?" he prompted.

She kept silent a moment longer before turning back. "I'm going to Dublin."

"I thought you've already arranged all the details of that charity event you'd been working on. Have your people messed up the seating plan again?"

"No, no. That's been taken care of. What I meant was," she paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I'm going home. I'm moving back to Ireland."

This time, she looked at him directly and by the grim expression on her face, he understood exactly what she was saying. "So, you're leaving me," he said, not as a question but as a statement.

She just stared back at him, sadness in her eyes. She had made up her mind and there was no changing it. "I'm sorry."

"No. Don't. I'm sorry. It's my fault," he argued as he moved to sit on the couch, his head in his hands. "I've been busy. I neglected you. I'm the one who should be sorry." He felt the cushions sink and her hand soothe his back.

"You tried, Harry. I did, too. I think, in the back of our minds, we knew it wouldn't work," she explained, not a hint of bitterness in her voice. "I knew you were going to propose," she admitted.

At this, Harry tilted his head at her in question.

Cornelia smiled and shrugged. "My assistant saw you leave the jewellers. I deflected, of course. I said it was probably a gift for your mother's birthday. But it was just around our anniversary and I knew. I was so excited. I thought you were going to ask at dinner but you didn't. I was so disappointed."

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated, knowing this was a line he was bound to say over and over during the course of the conversation. He meant it, too. He had been pulling away from her because he didn't know how to let her down without hurting her.

"You don't understand," she went on patiently. "I was excited for the proposal. I wasn't prepared for the answer."

"You were going to turn me down," he said.

"No. But I wasn't going to say yes, either." She paused as if to gather her thoughts. "When I went to Ireland two weeks ago, it was because I wanted to think it through. And I realized ... I couldn't say yes." She then enumerated her reasons: she wasn't ready, she couldn't see herself living permanently in London, both of their jobs entailed lots of time away from each other. "There's a long list, Harry, down to the way you roll your socks," she sniffled and laughed at the same time.

"That bad, huh?" Harry said, which made her smile and cry even more.

"You're amazing, Harry," she admitted. "But you're not the one for me... and I'm not the one for you."

"You can't know that," Harry contradicted, knowing from past experience that love didn't work like that. The concept of 'the one' wasn't real. "You can't."

"I do. If you were the one, all those reasons would have meant nothing to me. And if I was the one, you wouldn't have had doubts. You'd have already asked me to marry you."

There was silence between them and he knew both were weighing that heavy statement. "I do love you, you know," he said.

"I love you, too," she sighed. "It's just... not enough."

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A/N: Love reviews! Go ahead, click that button:)


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